Small Tragedies
by SSG Michael B Jackson
Summary: I wrote this back in '98, and it's set right after episode 8. It centers around a revival of the ADP cyborg program, and features an original character as the protagonist, though canon characters are also present.


This is set immediately after Bubblegum Crisis Pt. 8, "Scoop Chase" but well before BG Crash! (Which I

prefer to pretend doesn't exist). Also, events in this story obviously differ

from the Crash! continuum, so consider it an alternate reality. Enjoy!

_**Small Tragedies**_

By SSG Michael B. Jackson

Miraculously, the night had ended without disaster. After all was

said and done, after ADP headquarters had been overrun by Miriam's boomers,

even after they'd done their best to blow the entire building in place, the

tower still stood. The boomers were junk, their creator was in cuffs, and the

public was safe again.

Mostly thanks to the Knight Sabers, of course, even Investigator

Leon McNichol had to admit that. Without the Sabers, especially the Red

Saber, the ADP and a good chunk of Tinsel City would've been in a world of

shit that night. Yeah, all around, things'd turned out just fine.

If, that is, you ignored the little tragedies, the little

sacrifices. And that's what most would do; TNN was focusing on the positive

aspects of the night, the happy ending. Being the most respectable news

service on scene, their version of events became the definitive one. A dry,

dignified, version in which the dozens of dead cops and civilians were only

referred to in a respectful, numerical fashion. But, for once, in an ironic

swapping of roles, the story that was told by Vixen 16, the city's premier

televised trash-rag, was far more truthful if a lot less respectful. Vixen

16's cameras were right there, right at the scene of every chopper crash,

explosion, and gory death. They were there as screaming, broken, and burned

men and women were loaded into ambulances and whisked away. Some of them were

even waiting at the hospitals to see how many made it, and to catch the

inevitable moments when stricken family members came running in to find their

broken and bleeding loved ones. They caught every nuance of grief, pain, and

horror that TNN deemed unsuitable for their audience. And that included one

scene that came back to Leon as he worked on the antiseptic paperwork that

inevitably followed a messy spectacle like the previous night's. It was

a long shot of one of the buildings directly adjacent to the ADP tower, a

tall, slim skyscraper that was perfect for positioning overwatches. Or

snipers.

The shot panned a bit, and then zoomed in on a particular darkened

window, switching to the familiar emerald green of lowlight lenses as it moved

in. At first there was nothing apparent, just a dark window, but then there

was just the barest hint of movement, and a slight realignment of shadows that

revealed the silhouette of a long rifle barrel. The shot held steady there

for a moment, and just as it began to pan away, something else entered the

frame. There was a bright flash that briefly whited the entire frame out,

accompanied by a distant boom and a shrill scream.

When the camera recovered, where the window had been there were only

shattered fragments and a gaping hole underneath. As the camera panned down,

there was another distant scream, and then the frame centered on the source.

Hanging from a ledge below the window, some seventy-five meters above the

street, was a lone ADP officer, a young woman to judge by the outline. She

hung there, one handed, helmet-less, long raven hair snapping to and fro in a

vicious cross-wind. She hung on for long seconds that seemed to stretch for

an eternity, trying desperately to catch hold with her other hand.

But, finally, her grip faltered and, screaming all the way down, she

fell. The camera, obviously run by a gifted professional, followed her the

entire way, catching her rebound from the pavement, and the abrupt end of her

screams.

Though it had little to do with the reports he was working on,

for some reason Leon couldn't get that scene out of his head, nor the queasy

knowledge that that wasn't the end of the story. No, it seemed that

particular officer, one trooper first class Akiko Natomi, was a tough one. He

remembered her from a few of the cases he'd worked on, a little china-doll of

a woman, but tough and smart, and such a crack shot she'd become her squad's

designated sniper. A little green at first, but lately shaping up into a

first rate cop. It didn't even surprise him much that she'd survived the

fall. Of course, survival was a relative term. Even now, over eighteen hours

later, news from the ICU said it was touch and go, and even if she pulled

through she'd never be the same. Not even with the best that modern medicine

had to offer. A pretty shitty deal, Leon thought, especially for a single

mother. But,' he thought, the public doesn't know or care. All they

see are a bunch of faceless uniforms who can't even keep them safe anymore.

Hell, we can't even hang on to our own headquarters! Why should they care

that we're suffering just as much as they are? That's our job, right? Shit,

sometimes I wonder why I still bother.'

Leon sighed, and, standing up abruptly, said aloud, "Enough of this

crap! I'm going nuts in here! If the chief wants all these friggin' reports

by tonight, I guess he's just shit out of luck! DALEY!!"

From an office down the hall there was the sudden clatter of an

overturning chair and a muffled curse.

A moment later, a somewhat disheveled and rather annoyed Assistant

Inspector Daley Wong stepped out into the hallway and said, "Dammit, Leon! You

don't have a tactful bone in your body, do you?"

Leon grinned and said, "Nope! Time for you to wake your lazy ass up

anyway. I'm starved and I need to get the hell out of here for a while."

"Huh! Chief'll be thrilled, I'm sure." Daley said. "Well, where're we going

then?" "Beats me," Leon replied. "You're buying so you pick!" "Buying,

huh? Well you know that obligates you then, right?"

Leon rolled his eyes heavenward momentarily, and then said, "Oh,

sure, and what'd you have in mind for payment?"

Daley grinned slyly, and said, "Oh, I'm sure we can work

something out in trade, hmm?" "Yeah, right," Leon said sardonically. "I just

can't wait to hear this. Would it help if I said it was my time of the

month?"

"Shit, Leon, how could I tell?

You're always on the rag! Oh, well, maybe some other time..." Leon's

eyes narrowed with mock seriousness, and he said, "Yeah, yeah, sure thing,

smartass! Now you want to eat or what?!"

Daley laughed in reply, and the two friends headed for the parking

garage below.

Deep down in the darkness of her mind's eye she lived it over and over

again. She was there, lying prone on the thin, rough carpet, tucked behind the

cheap metal desk. The Pig, her 13mm heavy sniper rifle, was there with her,

pulled reassuringly into the pocket of her shoulder, just as she'd been

taught, the barrel protruding through the small hole she'd cut at the base of

the office window. Her eye was at the high-power IR/lowlight scope, lining up

the crosshairs on the unsuspecting boomer who rampaged through ADP's

headquarters across the street. She was patient, also as she'd been taught,

and applied principles of Zen archery, waiting for the factors of time,

target, and bullet to come into alignment of their own without anticipation.

Just as she felt her finger tightening on the trigger, as the moment

came into conjunction, the boomer's head suddenly snapped around in her

direction.

She froze, momentarily stunned, as the boomer looked straight at her.

It seemed almost to smile as its jaws gaped, and the laser lens jutted forth,

framed by gleaming fangs. The horrible moment was crystal clear to her

through the telescopic sight. Finally, her body unfroze, and her finger

started to tighten on the trigger again, but then it was too late. There was

a searing green flash and the world first caught fire then slid from under

her. She screamed, blinded, and flailed wildly for something solid as she

fell. She caught hold of something cold, hard and rough-edged that tore

her hand but supported her weight. For long moments, still unable to see, she

tried desperately to grab hold of something, anything, with the other hand,

terror washing over and drowning her mind. But her efforts only made

it that much harder to hang onto the hand-hold she had, and finally she

slipped. There was an instant when the terror peaked, washing away

everything else, and the scream that tore itself from her as she fell was a

product of that.

But, strangely, as she fell, the fear receded from her mind, leaving

behind a kind of calm detachment. The scream continued, but it was really

only an afterthought. Her last thoughts before striking the pavement were of

her little girl.

Maiume.' And then it wasn't pavement she was hitting, it

was water, a black bottomless expanse that swallowed her as she hit, without

even a ripple to mark her passage.

As she slowly sank, drifting leisurely toward the bottom an infinite

distance below, an overwhelming sense of peace slowly descended upon her, and

she just barely made out voices somewhere in the distance, urgent voices, but

carrying a message that was meaningless to her.

"Shit! She's flatlining! Get that crash cart over here! I need

ten cc's ephenepherine, intracardial, now! Get that thing charged! Clear!

Shit! Again!

Clear! Dammit, nothing! Nurse...!"

In fact, as she sank deeper, away from the voices, only one came

clear to her, with a message that cut like a knife through the dreamlike calm

that enfolded her.

"Mommy!" But, as much as it tore at her heart, Kiko knew

that she was powerless to halt her plunge. A part of her accepted that

calmly, but another part fought the knowledge vehemently.

She struggled briefly, flailing for the surface, wherever it might

be, but the frantic surge of energy just wasn't enough. Spent, powerless, she

felt herself sinking again, faster now, down toward the murky depths.

No!

Dammit, no! Maiume!' And once again, fleetingly, the voices:

"Goddamn it! We're losing her! She- ah, Christ, that's it. She's gone.

Dammit..." And then the blackness pressed in, smothering sight and sound and

thought forever.

The phone rang jarringly, jolting the Chief out of some private

revelry. Frowning, he picked it up and said, "Todo."

His frown deepened at first, then slowly relaxed, giving way to a

resigned, vaguely sad expression. "I see," he said neutrally. "Yes, of

course I'm sure you did all you could.

Well, I'll have my administrative staff make arrangements with the

family and- What!!? What do you mean the body's been taken?!"

As he said this, the Chief surged to his feet, body suddenly

rigid, and as the voice on the other end explained, the color slowly faded

from his face. "They've invoked clause 113?! Yes, I know she was an organ

donor, but-! Jesus Christ, you stupid bastard! Do you know what happened the

last time that clause was invoked?! Do you know how many cops died when

Fanward went nuts?!

And now they want to try it again?! I'll be godamed if they will!!"

And with that he slammed the phone into its cradle, hard enough to send shards

of plastic flying across the office.

The Chief remained standing for a moment, breath coming in ragged

gasps, and then collapsed into his chair.

"I'll be godamed if they will!" he repeated vehemently, then

reached for the battered phone to begin the battle he knew awaited.

The Chief's fight was destined to be extremely one sided.

Even calling in all the markers he'd accumulated over the years and

citing numerous city ordinances and national laws, not to mention past

precedents and departmental policy, did him little good. At every level, from

the Diet on down, the appropriate exceptions to policy were issued, and all

the pre-existing loopholes in Boomeroid laws were exploited. In the end, all

of the Chief's connections told him the same thing: it was going to happen.

Everything was just coming from too far on high to stop. And that was enough

to make the Chief reconsider some very fundamental decisions he'd lately made.

Even before the Miriam crisis, before his niece had almost died in his own

building, the Chief had been thinking about calling it quits. Lately, with

all the setbacks ADP had been experiencing, he'd begun to wonder more and more

whether he was still up to the fight, whether or not the department might do

better with some fresh blood at the top. And, yes, he'd been tired. Hell, he

figured he had a right, as long as he'd been in the game! But this setback

was just too much, it pissed him off. And more than that, he began to wonder

just how much of ADP's troubles were actually their fault. Oh, sure, he'd

realized from the beginning what the score was with Genom. But he'd always

figured that as long as they tread softly in some areas, they'd be left mostly

alone. After all, somebody had to be able to take down rogue boomers.

But now he wondered: mightn't it make sense to weaken the ADP to

the point where it was no longer able to take care of itself? Mightn't that

present an opportunity to do a little tuning up? A little automation?

Wouldn't it suit Genom just fine to have an ADP made up mostly of boomers and

boomeroids, with only a few human supervisors? Wouldn't that make them a lot

easier to control? And wouldn't it just be playing right into their hands for

the Chief to call it quits now? Christ only knew who or what they might get

to replace him! No, after long, hard thought, the Chief decided that maybe

he should stick around just a little longer, if for no other reason than to

see the department through whatever was coming with this new cyborg project.

After the last time, almost seven years ago now, he had a hard time believing

anything good would come of it. But, on the other hand, Natomi had been a

good cop.

Better than Billy had been, and a lot more stable. If there was still

any of her left after the cyberdocs were done, if they didn't wipe her mind

and soul away, then who could tell?

Part of the problem with Billy, the Chief had always thought, had been

the way people had treated him. Granted, that bitch of a cyberdoc had abused

him physically and mentally, but he'd always wondered what might've happened

if Billy hadn't been treated like a damn combat boomer by all the other

officers. With all the other strikes against him, it had probably only been a

matter of time, but what about Natomi?

About that, the Chief was adamant. If he couldn't stop the

project, then he was going to do his damnedest to make sure that Natomi had

everything going for her that he could arrange. After all, she'd died for the

department, and it wasn't her fault those techno-ghouls had brought her back.

He figured she deserved better than to have all her old comrades turn against

her as soon as she walked in the door. But, once again looking at the

other side, the Chief knew that this time there had to be contingency plans in

place. Plans to deal with the worst if it happened, because above all else

the Chief knew one thing: whatever it took, he wouldn't allow another

bloodbath. If he had to, he'd kill Natomi with his bare hands first. Not

that that was remotely possible, of course, he reflected with a sigh.

He'd seen some of the preliminary reports on Natomi's new body and its

combat potential, and it chilled his blood to think what it would take to stop

her if the worst happened.

As it happened, Chief Todo wasn't the only one with an interest in

Akiko Natomi's future.

Dr. Sylia Stingray sat at her computer terminal, a cup of cold,

forgotten herbal tea next to her elbow, and pondered the latest data her

colleague, Nene Romanova, had hacked out for her. She found the information

intriguing, dismaying, and disturbing all at the same time.

Intriguing simply because of the sheer genius of the designs she was

looking at, not to mention the radical new design concept- an androidial

cyber-body! An artificial body designed to mimic the original human body in

form and function as closely as possible, even down to dentition, and finger

and retinal prints. Not a new idea, they'd been doing it with boomers and

individual cyber-parts for years, but she'd never heard of a design this

comprehensive or complex before. In fact, if it turned out as good as the

designers planned, you'd never be able to tell the difference. Unless she

stepped on your foot, that is, weight could only be brought down so far with

the materials being used.

And that brought up the dismaying part; Sylia had been shocked to

learn some of the materials and technologies going into this body. She'd been

sure that some of them hadn't even been available to anyone but her, and some

others represented technologies that even she hadn't yet exploited!

Take, for instance, the body's integral armor and skeletal/muscular

enhancements, which provided both incredibly tough, body-wide hardened

armor, comparable in strength to a BU-55's heavy Abotex shell at a fraction of

the weight, and physical strength comparable to one of Sylia's newest

hardsuits! The body's micro-structure and power production was actually

composed of artificial cells that contained newly designed electrochondria'

which were, quite literally, miniature catalyzed cold fusion reactors that

produced usable energy from minute amounts of deuterium gleaned from normal

water intake. Given that there were, as in a human body, literally trillions

of cells, the body's total potential power output was staggering.

The nano-reconstruction and reinforcement work done on Natomi's brain

and notochord, making them almost as tough as the body's other tissues, also

made them the heart of the body's holo-optical/organic processing systems,

which incidentally mimiced a human sensorium as well as providing an

incredible reflex boost. Universal interfacing software and police-grade

scrambled radio systems with ether-net capability that provided instantaneous

go-anywhere access to the Net had also been installed.

In fact, it was all so complex that Sylia had to wonder how much of it

had actually been designed by a human mind, and how much came from the mind of

some high-level AI.

But the disturbing part, in Sylia's mind, was two-fold.

First, of course, were the weapons systems, especially the ranged

weapon, a Largo-type gravimetric blaster. It wasn't the sheer power of the

weapon that bothered her. Really, it was only comparable in destructive

ability and range to more standard energy weapons. It was that it was a

weapon that was currently beyond her ability to construct, and she hated

being behind the mega-corps like that. Technological superiority was

sometimes one of the few edges the Knight Sabers had, and she liked to keep

comfortably ahead of current trends in weapons design.

The other problem was that, according to the information she'd gotten,

the body had been entirely nano-assembled. The only time human hands had

touched it was during the surgical procedure to install Natomi's nervous

system, and even that had been mostly handled by nanos. In fact, it seemed

that all Cytech had to do to make a body like this was to pour a seed culture

of the right nanos into a vat full of the appropriate heavy metal-salt

solution, wait a week, and presto! Instant cyber-body!

Of course, it was a little more complicated than that; the processing

demands were high enough to necessitate external computer support and remote

control of the nanos, and an incredible amount of capital went into R&D for

every design. But overall it was an incredibly cheap, efficient, and rapid

production scheme.

And what it all added up to was that, pound for pound, Officer

Natomi's new body was a pretty fair match for one of her hardsuits.

Not that she necessarily thought the Knight Sabers would be duking it

out with the ADP any time soon, but what'd been done once could be done again.

Sylia fully expected that if the design panned out, if the body worked as

planned and Natomi didn't go c-psycho wearing it, they'd be seeing more cybers

like her. Corporate enforcers, military sales, you name it. And there was an

even more chilling possibility.

Looking at the designs, it had struck Sylia that it would be easier to

use an artificial brain than a human one, because the life support issues were

much simpler. It would be a simple matter to modify this design just a little

to produce a whole new generation of C- or even B-class boomers. Boomers who

were lighter, more agile, faster, and very possibly smarter than any of the

current combat or battle rated models, not to mention cheaper and easier to

produce. An ugly possibility, to say the least.

Sylia wasn't quite sure how to deal with this potential problem just

yet, but one thing was for sure, she wanted to keep a close eye on Natomi once

she was returned to duty. Fortunately, she had an insider.

Opening a phone window on her terminal, Sylia tapped the speed-dial

hot key for ADP non-emergency, and after the receptionist's courteous greeting

said, "Yes, I'd like to speak to Corporal Romanova, please..."

Forever, she'd thought in her last moments, as the darkness had closed

in. It had seemed at that instant that eternity was opening up beneath her,

but if that was the case, then forever was a lot shorter than she'd ever

thought. She pondered this as she rode silently in the back of the unmarked

van which took her toward a place of absolute terror, ADP headquarters.

She knew that she shouldn't be afraid, that the people there were

the same friends and co-workers she'd known for over two years now. But she

knew that she'd changed, and they knew as well, though she doubted they really

had any idea just how much and in what ways. In response to that thought,

recent memories, crystal bright and hard-edged in a way that older

recollections weren't, began to play through her mind. At first, there'd only

been the darkness, deep and calm and all enfolding, the same darkness she'd

plunged into at the hospital. But something had been different... And then

the darkness had abruptly been shattered by blinding white light, the silence

banished by a cacophony of synthesized sound.

She'd recoiled inside herself at first, but the sensory jumble had

quickly resolved itself into something comprehensible.

She'd found herself lying in an antiseptic white room, staring

up at a bank of perfectly ordinary fluorescent lights. And the clutter of

sounds resolved itself into a voice. "Miss Natomi?" it'd said. "Miss Natomi,

this is Dr. Nakatomi. Can you hear me?" It'd taken an eternity (but no!

It was only 1.2337 seconds, a part of her said) before the sense of the

question penetrated to her, and her answer was a sluggish, "Uhnn-huh," and

then, "Werrrrr...?"

The voice had seemed to consider for a moment, and then had said,

"Well, that depends on how you look at it. This room doesn't exactly exist,

you see." "Hrrrmm?!"

"It's a high level VR sim. You really are in a very similar room, but

it's more... convenient to do this through cyberspace. You see, you've had a

little accident, Miss Natomi, and we're about to begin a program of physical

therapy..." And that was how it'd started. She'd spent subjective months in

virtual therapy', both physical and mental, thought less than a month had

passed in the real' world.

She'd been trained in the use of her new body and all its subsystems

that way, re-learning everything from the most basic movements to the most

complex combat and martial arts maneuvers. This had served both to acclimate

her to her new situation, and to fine-tune the body's kinesthetic subroutines.

Through it all, she'd been subjected to a myriad of psychiatric tests and

treatments, the results of which had surprised the experts. More than one of

them was concerned by the fact that she seemed to adjust far more quickly than

they'd expected. So quickly, in fact, that some of them were sure she was

faking, just telling them what they wanted to hear. But that wasn't the case,

and Kiko knew herself well enough to know why.

For starts, she was a practitioner of Zen. In keeping with that,

she believed that much of what people called self' or ego' was merely an

illusion, an artifact of thought and memory. Since she hadn't been strongly

attached to a rigid image of self in the first place, she found it easier to

accept her new condition. Where another might have thought, I'm a freak!',

or I've become a monster!', Kiko simply thought, I am.', quickly followed

by a wry, But who's the I, that thinks it is?'

Of course, there were still times when she wondered just what she

was now, times when she suffered depression, frustration, and even rage at

what'd happened to her. Not to mention fear about her new abilities. But

two factors besides her Zen beliefs helped her to hang on. There was her

natural intelligence, which was a lot higher than she'd ever let on to her co-

workers. She'd been a high academic achiever since childhood, and had been an

avid student of mathematics, humanities, and the sciences in college. Once

her new body was explained to her, she understood it a lot better than most

cops would have, and that acted as a defense mechanism for her; it allowed her

to rationalize and lapse into techno-jargon whenever she managed to frighten

herself with its capabilities. And there was the last, and probably most

important factor: Maiume.

Kiko remembered her near-death experience vividly, and she knew

that there, at what she'd thought was the end of her life, she would've done

anything for just a few more hours with her daughter. She'd never realized

just how much she meant to her until that moment, and, after recovering had

vowed that she wouldn't throw away this second chance. In fact, no matter how

strange she sometimes felt, she was thankful beyond words just to be there.

But,' she thought, frowning slightly, there's always a catch.'

That thought, in turn, sparked another crystal-bright recollection.

"What do you mean I can't see Maiume yet?" she'd said in that cold,

deadly voice only an angry mother could produce. Dr. Nakatomi, his usual

cool, confidently self, had replied, "Ah, it's only a temporary thing, my

dear. We, that is Cytech, the Diet, the city council, and the chief of

police, have agreed that a ninety day probationary period is in order. During

that time, you'll be housed in a suite inside the ADP tower under outpatient

care. There will be a twenty-four hour resident psychologist and a technician

on hand and your comings and goings will be supervised."

"In other words," she'd said slowly, "I'll be a prisoner, with work

releases to handle crazy boomers; I don't like that arrangement very much,

Doctor.

Not at all." Still smiling, making the best as he always did of his

college-professorish good looks, Nakatomi had said, "Well, I'm sorry if this

upsets you, Akiko, but I'm afraid there's really very little choice. You are

familiar with what happened seven years ago, I assume?" She'd looked

down at the floor and very quietly said, "Yes." And then, looking up

quickly she'd said, "But I'm not like Billy Fanward! He had problems that I

don't!

No sensory deprivation, no sociopathic tendencies, no hallucinations!

What happened to him won't happen to me!"

Nodding enthusiastically, Nakatomi had said, "Of course not, my dear!

You know that and I know that. But the politicians and executives don't, and

you wouldn't believe the amount of diplomacy it took to get this project

approved at all. I'm afraid we simply had to make some concessions. But it is

only for ninety days. After that... well, we'll simply have to see."

Sensing that the subject was closed, but still not quite willing to give up,

Kiko had said, "But Maiume-!" And Dr. Nakatomi, without changing

expression at all, had somehow suddenly become very dark. "Ah, yes,

Maiume," he'd said. "The daughter you love so much."

He paused for a moment, as if considering, and then continued.

"Tell me, Akiko, just hypothetically now, what if you were allowed to visit

with Maiume?

Certainly she knows, as much as a two-year-old can, that you're still

alive. In fact, at that age, I'm relatively certain she wouldn't even notice

any difference in you." He stopped again, this time scratching his chin

thoughtfully, and then said, "But, now suppose, in your excitement at seeing

her, you were to get just a bit carried away, that you were to forget yourself

for a moment. Oh, I know, you have algorithms and subroutines to control your

casual strength, but what if...?" Again he paused, and then added softly,

"And you know little Maiume's going to want a hug from her mother. Think

about that for a moment, and then tell me what you think." Kiko, almost in

tears, had simply nodded her head and said softly, "Ok, Doctor, you win."

Officially, everyone was supposed to carry on as if it were business

as usual. At least, that was the word straight from the Chief's desk.

Unofficially, of course, everyone who could found some excuse to be

near the parking garage when the nondescript white van arrived, and Leon was

at the head of the pack.

As the van pulled in, and the cargo doors began to open, he looked

over his shoulder and said, "Huh! So what d'you suppose she looks like,

Daley? Some kinda' aftermarket mannequin?

They said no chrome." Frowning, Daley said, "Still Mr. Sensitivity,

I see.

Did it ever occur to you that she might be able to hear you? Hmmm?"

Flushing slightly, Leon said, "Ah, hell, I didn't mean it that way! It's

just... I was thinking about what Billy looked like, and, well, shit! I just

wonder, that's all!"

"Well," Daley said patiently, as though speaking to a very dense

child, "I guess we're about to see." As he said that, two figures emerged

from the back of the van. One, a tall, silver-haired man who looked a very

fit fifty, moved with confidence and poise, and led the other, an extremely

attractive, dark-haired young woman in ADP dress uniform who seemed somewhat

more tentative.

"Hmmm, mannequin, huh?" Daley said sarcastically. "She looks pretty

good for a mannequin, partner. Any better, and I'd be tempted. Almost."

Nodding in agreement, Leon said, "Yeah, a little too good. I don't remember

her being that... perfect before."

Shaking his head, Daley said, "Never satisfied, are you Leon?"

For Kiko, it was an afternoon of mixed emotions.

She had been apprehensive the entire morning, and her fellow officer's

comments and guarded stares as she exited the van hadn't helped.

And, yes, she had heard Leon and Daley's comments, and that hadn't

helped either, but she'd known that things would most likely be difficult at

first, and had steeled herself to accept that. Now, as she exited the

elevator on the twenty-sixth floor and turned toward the chief's office, Dr.

Nakatomi hovering behind in support, both nervousness and anticipation warred

inside her and she tried to focus past both to achieve some measure of calm.

Of course, she knew that she could, at will, damp at least the hormonal part

of her anxiety, leaving only the intellectual component to deal with, but she

considered that cheating; there were no short-cuts to serenity. As she

reached the chief's door and raised her hand to knock, though, she almost

reconsidered; she didn't think she'd ever been so nervous in her life.

She spent a moment concentrating on her breathing (and double

checking to make sure her kinesthetic subroutines were scaling her strength

down appropriately), and then knocked confidently on the door.

"Come in!" came the Chief's loud reply through the thin wooden

door. She opened the door and strode in, stopping the required two paces in

front of the Chief's desk, and coming to attention said, "Sir, Sergeant Akiko

Natomi reports for duty!"

The Chief, still seated, looked her over for a few moments, eyes

narrowed, and then, indicating a chair near his desk said, "Huh! Well, relax,

Sergeant Natomi; go ahead and have a seat." Kiko sighed with relief, glad

to have that part over with, and sat down quickly.

Dr. Nakatomi seemed to take that as an invitation also, and pulled

up a second chair beside her. The Chief was silent for a moment,

seeming to consider his words, and then said, "Before we get too deep into

this, there're a couple of things I should say up front."

"First," he said, "I'm not going to lie to you; I was against this

project from the start, and I still am in principal."

Then, as he saw the color drain from Kiko's face and begin to rise

in Nakatomi's, he said quickly, "But, there's not much I can do about it now."

"And," he continued, "I certainly can't hold anything against you, Sergeant

Natomi. You made the ultimate sacrifice for this department; anything that

happened after that wasn't your fault, and I'm certainly not sorry that you're

alive today instead of taking up space in a rooftop cemetery." The Chief

paused for a moment to let that sink in and to gauge both their reactions, and

then continued.

"But I'm sure you know why I have a hard time swallowing this whole

project. Am I right?"

"Yes," Kiko said, returning the Chief's gaze. "I know about the

Fanward incident, sir. But that's not going to happen again, and I'd be

really glad if people would stop bringing it up, sir." "Huh!" the Chief

grunted. "Well, don't expect that to happen overnight. There're still a lot

of people here who saw it first hand, and they're not going to forget. On the

other hand, no one's going to harass you over it either, or they'll be talking

to me." Looking at Dr. Nakatomi, he said, " I don't know what your

professional opinion is, doctor, but I've thought for a long time that Billy

would've done a lot better if people hadn't treated him like a piece of

equipment. As much as I don't like this whole thing, I intend to see that

Sergeant Natomi is treated better than that."

The doctor nodded his head and said, "Yes, I was hoping you'd see it

that way. Our research has indicated much better results under such

conditions." The Chief nodded slowly, and said, "Well, that's fine, doctor.

Now, Sergeant Natomi, do you have anything to say?" Kiko hesitated for a

moment, and then said, "Sir, all I can say is... just give me a chance. I

know this whole thing scares a lot of people; it scares me! But... well,

let's face it, sir, the ADP's been getting its ass kicked for a long time now.

If not in fact, then certainly in the media. I mean, as far as the public is

concerned, we can't even take care of ourselves, much less them!"

Seeing the Chief's face begin to redden, Kiko quickly said, "Oh, I

know that's not true! We manage to take care of all the routine boomer

incidents without much trouble, but all the public sees is the flashy stuff."

Sighing, she added, "And, sir, you can't deny that every time we go up against

a C-class or B-class we take casualties. Lots of them." "Tell me

something I don't know," the Chief muttered, and then, "So what's your point,

Sergeant?"

"My, point, sir, is that the reason for that is a lack of mobile

firepower. Oh, sure, there are the K-suits and the heavy weapons, but how

long do they take to deploy? Ten or fifteen minutes? By that time, it's too

late."

"And," Dr. Nakatomi added, "they tend to be rather... unfriendly

to the area around them." "Right," Kiko said, and then, "On the other

hand, with me out there on the street or standing by here, you've got a much

shorter response time and a lot more surgical strike power available."

Kiko was silent for a moment, and then continued. "Sir, what it

boils down to is, I think I can make a difference. I'm not happy that this

happened to me, but since it did, I might as well make the best of it. And if

I can spare just one person, one family, what I've been through, I'll feel

that I've accomplished something. And..." As she said this, her voice had

risen steadily until it finally broke, and a single tear made its way down her

cheek. The Chief, taken aback and somewhat fascinated by the fact that she

still could shed tears, said, "And what, Sergeant?" Sniffing slightly,

she said, "And I'll do whatever it takes to prove I can be trusted so that I

can see Maiume again. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to act like this, but-"

Shaking his head, the Chief said, "No, don't apologize. I understand.

And of course, if everything goes as planned, I'll make sure that you get to

see her just as soon as possible. In fact I-" At that point, the Chief

was interrupted by the loud jangling of his phone. Frowning at the

interruption, he snatched up the receiver.

"Todo. Yes. Uh-huh. A what?! How many? Where! Now? Well, who

the hell's out there?

Hall!?

Oh, Christ! And he wants what? Huh! Well, tell him to hang on to

his shorts! I'm sending him something right now!" The Chief slammed the

receiver back into its much abused cradle, and, looking hard at Nakatomi said,

"Well, you tell me, doc, is she ready for the field yet?" As imperturbable as

ever, Dr. Nakatomi said, "I think she'd be the judge of that. Why don't you

ask her?"

Turning to Kiko, the Chief raised an eyebrow and said, "Well?"

Swallowing the lump that'd suddenly come into her throat, Kiko

said, "I heard the operator on the other end. Three combat-rated and a couple

of mannequin type kit-bashes, running loose over in the Yokohama Chinatown.

Looks like they were being stored in some gun-runner's warehouse, and got

activated somehow. Sergeant Hall's squad got called to respond to one of the

mannequins before the others appeared, and now they're getting the shit kicked

out of them."

She looked down at the floor for a second, and then said, "I guess

I'd better change on the way; it'd look pretty funny to drop into a war zone

dressed for the policeman's ball."

"Huh!" the Chief said. "In that case, you better haul ass on down

to the heliport; we don't need to waste any more goddamn time!"

With a hasty, "Sir!" Kiko sprang up, whirled inhumanly fast, and

was out the door in less than a second, followed at a more leisurely pace by

Nakatomi, who said he'd be of more use in the operator's cubicle.

Behind them, the Chief sat silently, lost in thought, and for the first time

since this had begun, he found himself thinking that maybe things wouldn't

turn out so bad after all.

Sergeant Patrick Hall was having a bad day. At least, that's the way

he looked at it. Any sane person, of course, would've said he was smack in

the middle of a disaster area.

It'd started well enough, he thought, one harmless little BU-E-

35 waitress type wandering around the streets randomly asking, "May I take

your order please?" Hall'd laughed when the call came in, and told his squad

to get ready for a coffee break.

Of course, the joke had soured a little when they got on scene.

The street had looked like a war zone: burned out cars,

shattered windows, and plenty of bodies, both moving and still. And there, in

the center of it all, had been their harmless' little waitress boomer with a

laser lens poking out of one forearm and a wrist blade on the other, still

innocently asking, "May I take your order please?" Friggin' kit-bash!

Somebody's bargain basement do-it-yourself assasinoid!

Well, that hadn't been so bad. Truth to tell, other than the

civilian casualties, Hall was probably happier dealing straight forwardly with

something that had some fight in it rather than just gunning down or trying to

capture a screw-loose mannequin.

Yeah, that'd been ok. Hall's squad was one of the best in the

department, and Hall himself had been around since the beginning. Hell, he'd

survived on the line since it all started in 27, and the only reason he

wasn't an investigator like some of his peers was because he liked it where he

was. So one little kit-bash was no big deal. In fact, she was down only

minutes after his people rolled up with zero casualties on Hall's side. But

then the shit had hit the fan. Just as they'd finished disposing of the kit-

bash, there'd been a titanic explosion somewhere on the next block.

"Shit!" Hall had yelled, "What the hell was that?!" And then the

information had come to them through their own dispatch. Frantic calls were

coming in from at least three more locations nearby, all describing full

combat rated boomers rampaging indiscriminately through Yokohama's Chinatown.

"Great," Hall had muttered, and looking skyward he'd said, "So who

pissed in your corn flakes this morning?"

Then, shaking his head in resignation, he'd started barking orders to

his people, sending them out to establish as much control as possible over key

locations to prepare the way for the inevitable heavy back up. He knew

there just weren't enough of them to even effectively hold combat models, but

he figured they could at least play speed bump until reinforcements arrived;

maybe they'd save a few lives that way. Of course, he knew those lives likely

wouldn't be any of theirs.

At the same time, he was on the helmet com with dispatch, calmly

telling the operator on the other end just what they needed down there, and

where it would most likely do some good. And of course it all had to be

cleared through the Chief. "Well, you'd better tell the old fart to

make it pretty goddamn fast!" Hall had said, "Because if he doesn't, we're

lookin' at some bargain basement urban renewal out here! And I ain't shittin'

either! My guys've got eyes-on now, and they say these bastards are comin'

through like a wrecking crew, smashing everything in front of em! Somebody

must've really screwed with their brains, cause I've never seen anything

short of a battle boomer do this much damage! Aw, Christ!

Sorry, just ran out of time to talk! Just get something heavy out here

now!"

And with that, Hall'd become very busy.

At the same time, back in ADP's communications and tactical ops room,

Nene Romanova took advantage of the sudden confusion to slip her cell phone

from her purse. Pressing a particular speed dial key, she both dialed the

number she wanted and invoked a sophisticated scrambling program. On the

third ring, a familiar voice answered on the other end. "Yes?" "It's me,"

Nene said. "There's trouble down in Yokohama.

Only three C-class, but they're acting really weird and all that's out

there now is one squad!" "I see," said the other. "And you don't think

back up will be able to handle it?"

Nene bit her lip, and said, "It's not that. It's just- well, they

sent her out!"

"What?!" the other voice said. "But I thought she'd just

reported back in this morning!"

Nene nodded and said, "Yeah, she did. I guess she was up in

Chief's office when the call came in. Everybody says she didn't even take

time to change out of her dress uniform before she got on the chopper! Said

she'd change on the way." "Hmmm. Well, that is interesting. I think I may

have to go out and take a look at this."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Nene said, concerned. "Alone, I

mean?" "Oh, I should be alright," said the other, "but I'll get ahold of

the others and put them on standby just in case. You stay put; you'll be

plenty useful where you are."

Reluctantly, Nene said, "Well, ok, but be careful, huh?"

The other laughed, and said, "Ok, mother hen, but I thought that

was my line!" Nene blushed self-consciously, and said, "Yeah, but you've said

it so many times it's engraved on my brain. Anything else?" "No," the

other said, "I think that about covers it.

Just let me know if anything changes there." "Will do." Nene

said, and thumbed the End' button. And then it was time to get back to

work.

The flight seemed to take forever. Intellectually, Kiko knew that

wasn't true, as her internal chronometer would show if she bothered to call it

up.

But she knew that for every minute they were in the air, someone else

was probably dying and that made the ride seem interminable.

And of course, there were the few awkward moments it'd taken her to

change. There wasn't a lot of privacy in the back of an ADP air transport, and

she knew the pilot and co-pilot had gotten an eyeful. Not that she

particularly cared right now. But at least,' she thought in a moment of

nervous humor, this ought to settle any stupid questions anybody has about

anatomical correctness!'

Finally they arrived over the target area, which had been

visible for miles because of the huge plumes of smoke rolling up from the

streets below, and got their first good look.

"Holy Mary Mother of God!" said the pilot. "Looks like Manila after

it was shelled! Where the hell do you think I'm gonna set you down in that?"

Yelling from the back of the open cargo ramp, Kiko said, "Don't worry

about that! Just get me within a hundred meters of the ground!

I can take care of the rest!"

I hope,' she added silently. Even before her fall, Kiko'd had a

fear of heights. Afterwards, that fear had blossomed into full blown

acrophobia. But after months of virtual therapy and confidence training,

Kiko had beaten that fear back to manageable proportions. She thought.

But, standing on the edge of the cargo door, hanging out over thin air, she

felt a moment of almost primal panic as she looked down at the ground far

below. Oh, gods!' she thought, stomach clenched tight, I can't!'

And then, instinctively applying both deep breathing and autonomic

overrides, she deliberately brought her fear under control. If I don't, if

I'm too afraid, people will die. It's that simple. I have to.'

The pilot, who'd been far too busy to take notice of what Kiko'd been

doing, turned back suddenly and yelled, "Ok, one hundred meters and hovering!

But I can't stay here long or we'll be an easy target! We- Hey! What the

hell!!?" As he spoke, Kiko took one last deep breath and stepped off

into space.

At an altitude of little more than three hundred feet, her fall

only took seconds, but she recalibrated her time sense so that it stretched

out to almost a subjective minute. Also, she activated seldom used avionics

programs, and released the safety interlocks on her kinesthetics subroutines,

realeasing the full power of her boosted musculature. Brightly colored

overlays and virtual instruments came to life in her field of vision, and she

used her airborne time to acquire and paint targets, and overlay them on her

internal map of the area, so that even when she lost sight of them she'd have

some idea where they were. Also, she established a secure data channel to

ADP's combat information net through her ether link, and then brought her

internal weaponry on-line.

By that time, the ground was getting close, and she moved from the

spread-eagled position she'd been using to slow her fall to a limber ready

position in anticipation of the landing. In her time-stretched world, the

landing was deceptively gentle. Only her body's internal strain gauges showed

how close she'd come to actual damage as she struck, performed a perfect

parachute landing fall, and rolled up into a combat crouch.

She landed a few meters away from and in plain view of her first

target, a BU-55C that'd been engaged in a hide and seek match with ADP forces

for several minutes now.

Wisely, they'd avoided a decisive engagement with the combat

boomer, choosing instead to harry it from a distance and lead it away from

fleeing civilians. Unfortunately, whereas the line officers' M-42A1's

could barely scratch the boomer's armored hide even with AP rounds, the

boomer's mouth laser only had to come close in order to kill. Already, the

four-person team that'd been sent to deal with the armored giant had been

pared down to three, and those three had run out of places to hide. But, as

she'd planned, the crazed boomer forgot the pinned down officers as soon as it

saw her.

"What the hell?!" it rumbled, swiveling smoothly to face her.

Briefly, she imagined how she must look to both the boomer and her fellow

officers, a disheveled, sweaty young woman in ADP line fatigues and no visible

weapons who'd just dropped out of the sky. Then she smiled, extended her

wrist blades with an audible snap!', and growled, "Your worst nightmare, you

walking pile of scrap!"

The boomer growled in reply, and opened fire with its mouth laser.

But Kiko, still living in compressed time, saw the telltale shifts

in the boomer's stance that denoted it was about to fire a whole tenth of a

second before its laser discharged. Plenty of time! She leaped high, over

the boomer's line of fire, and somersaulted as she cleared the five meters

between them. She struck it squarely in the head with a flying kick just a

millisecond after the laser fired, and used the rebound to execute a mid-air

back flip and land on her feet.

The boomer, though not seriously damaged, was nonetheless knocked

off its feet, and skidded on it's back for a couple of meters before it

stopped.

Without hesitating, Kiko charged the prone cyberdroid, and before it

could react sliced deep into its exposed chest with one of her glittering,

faintly humming blades.

A sticky orange fluid jetted from the gaping wound, splattering

Kiko's face, and the boomer made an odd grunting sound. But it was far from

finished.

As Kiko followed her swing through, it cocked back its right

leg and launched a brutal kick to Kiko's abdomen.

Taking her slightly off-guard, the blow connected. It lifted her

bodily and threw her back more than ten meters where she slammed into a mostly

intact brick wall with a loud, "Uhfff!" of pain.

The three surviving officers, hidden behind a pile of masonry

rubble, gasped and winced. They knew it'd been a blow and an impact that

would've pulped an ordinary person, and none of them expected Kiko to get up.

To their amazement, though, she never even fell. Kiko landed on her

feet as she slid down the wall, and around the pain in her gut whispered, "Oh,

you want to play rough, huh?! Well try this!"

With that, moving almost too fast to see, she retracted her right

wrist blade and brought her palm up toward the still prone boomer.

In her field of vision, a targeting reticule flared to life, framing

the BU-55's head, and almost immediately established a lock. Without

hesitating, she concentrated and sent the firing impulse throughout her body.

She felt the deep fire inside her brighten, an intensification of

what she'd been feeling ever since she'd released her muscles' full strength,

and she knew she was tapping the full potential of her body's fusion powered

metabolism. It was an intoxicating feeling, and she felt a moment's brief

fear as she realized how addictive the feeling might become.

There was a ripple in the air between her palm and the boomer as

space itself was violently bent, followed immediately by a deafening crack

like thunder.

The boomer's head deformed radically as the wave of compressed

space-time struck it, and then was torn completely off an instant later. The

boomer scrabbled about on the ground for a few more seconds, as though

frantically seeking its severed head, and then suddenly stiffened and fell.

Kiko herself staggered back a step as a momentary wave of fatigue

washed over her and thought, Damn! I guess I'll have to space those out.'

But she recovered quickly, and yelled over to the officers just starting to

emerge from cover. "Hey! Everybody ok?" The senior officer, a corporal

Kiko knew vaguely, stepped forward hesitantly and said, "Yeah, we're ok," and

then, noticing the pips on her collar added, "uh, Sergeant."

Kiko nodded quickly and said, "Good. Now do me a favor: get the

hell out of here. Fall back, assist with traffic control, see the medic,

whatever! But get the hell out of this area; this isn't a place for human

beings right now." The corporal seemed ready to object for a second, but

then apparently thought better of it. He shrugged, turned to the other two

officers who'd been waiting nervously behind him and said, "Well, you heard

the sergeant.

Let's go!"

As the three ragged officers turned and started to trot away, the

corporal suddenly stopped and said, "Hey, sarge!"

"Yeah?" Kiko said, already turning to go herself.

The corporal looked briefly at the ground, and then said quickly,

"Thanks.

We'd all be dead if you weren't here. That was the goddamndest thing

I ever saw." Kiko blushed for a second, and said, "Oh, hell; just doing my

job like you. And I've got a lot more to do." The corporal nodded and then

took off at a run with the others.

High up on the roof of an untouched tenement building, unnoticed in

the confusion, a white and blue armored figure lay prone, observing the events

below.

Sylia Stingray was somewhat impressed, to say the least.

True, she'd had some idea of Natomi's combat potential from the

pirated files she'd read. But the performance she'd seen went beyond mere

statistics and specifications.

What she'd seen was a synergistic integration of everything that went

into the body, and the brain that inhabited it. The reaction times she'd

measured, both during Natomi's plunge from the transport and during the actual

combat, had been phenomenal. Even with the new version three synchro systems

she planned for their next generation of hardsuits, she doubted that even

Priss or Linna could duplicate such feats.

Again she felt a sort of frustration; she was being outpaced by the

enemy, and the only way she could see to fight them was to cross a line the

Knight Sabers had drawn for themselves at the beginning. All she could think

of to compensate on her end was to install neural taps in both suit and

wearer, and that was something that neither she, nor any of her people, would

consent to. What was the point in beating the bastards if you had to become

like them in order to do it?

On the other hand, she'd heard what Natomi'd said down there. She

didn't sound like a raving cyber-psycho or a corporate combat boomer. She

sounded like an ADP line cop who was concerned for her fellow officers and

suddenly had the power to do something about it.

Of course, from what she'd heard, Fanward hadn't been crazy at the

beginning either, and had saved a lot of lives too. But in the end he'd lost

it, and taken more lives than he'd ever saved.

Sylia sighed, and decided it was just too early to tell. All she

could do for now was watch and wait and plan.

Over the course of that bloody afternoon, millions of yen worth of

damage were done to the Yokohama area, and dozens of lives were lost, among

them five ADP officers. The networks moved in early, well before the fighting

was properly contained, much less ended. As always, TNN and Vixen 16 were

right there at the front, witnessing the same events, but reporting two

entirely separate stories.

As they had a month before, TNN focused on the positive aspects of

the day: Sergeant Hall's quick thinking and expert leadership, and the

lives he managed to save by his incredible usage of a force too small by far.

ADP's quick response and rapid deployment of its new cyber officer,

returned to duty only that day.

The subsequent courage and determination of that officer and all

the other line officers who followed. ADP's quick disposal of the rampaging

boomers and the low numbers of casualties they'd suffered for a change. And

the subsequent help provided by ADP's cyber officer in rescue efforts for

those trapped in collapsed and burning buildings.

Vixen 16, on the other hand, focused as usual on the sensational.

Their report had a slick, fast look that was a cross between a Cops' episode

and a music video: Shots of a beautiful, battered, dark haired young woman

in tattered fatigues locked in hand to hand combat with a female model combat

boomer, red and orange blood spattered over them both. Shots of a squad of

ADP line officers surrounding and gunning down a rebuilt mannequin, who struck

down two of their number in turn before succumbing herself. Endless shots of

burning, shattered cityscape, littered with bodies and debris.

And the inevitable shots of the burned and broken being loaded into an

endless succession of ambulances.

But for a change, both TNN and Vixen 16 wrapped their reports up

with the same piece of footage, and both ran it almost silently.

It was a clip that began with a long shot of a burning, partially

collapsed apartment building and a number of fire trucks, ambulances, and

police vehicles scattered around it. The shot focused on the building's

main entrance and zoomed in, revealing it to be almost entirely blocked by

heavy slabs of broken concrete and masonry.

Suddenly, one of the huge slabs had shifted, and then another, and

one piece abruptly exploded into dust and fragments as a small booted foot

kicked at it. Outlined in flickering light from the fully involved hallway

behind and almost lost in the smoke that rolled out, a small, feminine shape

pushed her way through the heavy debris, scattering it as though it were made

of styrofoam. As the camera zoomed in for a closeup, it could be seen that

the woman was cut, scraped and burned all over, and covered in soot and blood

from head to toe except for the tear streaks on her face. It could also be

seen that she wore the tattered remains of an ADP field uniform, and that she

cradled a small frightened child in her arms. As she staggered, exhausted

and still crying, away from the burning building, another female figure raced

in to intercept her from off camera, beating the EMTs and firefighters by only

seconds.

The child's mother reached for the little boy gratefully, and the

other woman handed him over with a tired smile just as the EMTs rushed up to

check them both.

But as the little boy was looked over and his mother hovered

protectively, the battered and bedraggled young police woman just backed off,

waving away any medical aid, and sat slowly on the ground with her hands

splayed out behind her.

She gazed up and down the ruined street, and then back to the mother

and child and smiled again.

This time, at least, there'd been one less small tragedy.

END


End file.
